


Scrawl Caliber Drabble Collections - Kurt/Puck

by MissChriss



Category: Glee
Genre: Drabble Collection, M/M, Romance, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-14
Updated: 2012-12-14
Packaged: 2017-11-21 02:38:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/592505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissChriss/pseuds/MissChriss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Collection of Drabbles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scrawl Caliber Drabble Collections - Kurt/Puck

**Author's Note:**

> sexual situations/Puck as a vampire, a homophobic slur, sexual situations, talk of previous domestic violence.

I-Faint

Waiting For

The warm sun warps the air around him. The air prickles his skin in a way that makes him wish he could take it off. He can feel the little ants crawling up his pant leg. It's been two and a half days since he'd plopped himself down on the small patch of grass. Staging an impromptu hunger strike was not his most inspired idea but it was the only thing he could think of.

His stomach had long since past the gnawing pain and settled into a quiet throbbing that would make him cry if it weren't for the crowd that had gathered. He thinks he hears the quiet murmur of Mercedes and the gruff reasoned tones of his father. Only one person really knows why he's decided to pull this stunt but even in his fevered state he can tell that Puck isn't among the spectators.

He stays in his spot for two more days. He's humming under his breath as he fights to stay upright. He's given up on holding back his tears. Around the last half of the third day that he'd begun to give up hope. He'd spent the rest of the time quietly mourning the loss of something that wasn't his in the first place.

The crowd is gone and the sun is setting far behind him. A large warm hand rests on his fevered cheek and warm brown eyes meet his for the first time since all this happened. He waits until he's cradled in Noah's arms before he gives into the faint pull of sleep. He knows he needs sleep, a bath and twice his weight in food. But right now he's content where he is. Warm in Noah's arms. Because really that's what this whole thing was about in the first place.

 

II-Bitter

Lemonade

 

Bitter. Of all the words that could describe their beginnings, it's bitter.

From the acidic, hateful words that would fall out of their mouths effortlessly. To the salty taste of Puck rolling on his tongue. From the sharp shoulders that sent him flying into the hard metal lockers. To the press of those same shoulders that would hold him in place as Puck would pound against him. From the cold, harsh slap of grape slushie. To the warm ropes of cum that would paint his face.

Everything about them was laced with a kind of sour taste. The kind that made you scrunch your face up, like you were sucking on bitter candy. But there was sugar underneath. In the way Puck would let him leave marks on his skin. In the way that Puck would call him Kurt in whispered tones, hiding in the darkness. In the way that Puck would curl into Kurt's side and beg forgiveness for every biting word. In the way Kurt would always forgive him.

The day that Puck first kissed him, hiding in the dark corner of the auditorium, Kurt could taste the lemonade on Puck's lips. The day Puck kisses Kurt in public, he tastes like watermelon and second chances.

 

III- Crush

Seasons

 

His summers were Orange Crush and Captain Crunch. His winters were snowmen and shortbread cookies. His falls were raking leaves and second-hand back to school clothes. His springs were sister-made dandelion necklaces and soil-stained fingers. He wanted to share all that with Kurt.

His summers were stiff-backed chairs and quiet waiting rooms. His winters were drinking hot chocolate alone and eggnog going bad in the fridge. His falls were the death march back to the place that meant torture and a spike in dry-cleaning bills. His springs were cleaning the rain gutters and no one remembering his birthday. But that was before Noah.

Their summers are Orange Crush flavored kisses and Captain Crunch for dinner. Their winters are gingerbread men and spiked eggnog. Their falls are first days of school and watching their daughter wave goodbye with her princess lunch kit. Their springs are wild flower tiaras and homemade birthday cards.

They could measure their love like the seasons and they could taste it just as strongly as they could taste the Orange Crush that always clung to Kurt's top lip.

 

IV-Stifle

Hands and Lips

The hand that clamps over his mouth forces a startled squeak from his lips. The hand tightens when he finds that Kurt is already hard. Almost like he was waiting. He spend a few brief moments relishing in the way Kurt's gasps tickle his palm and the thick heady smell of lust that paints the curve of Kurt's neck. Kurt is hard and heavy in his hand and Puck can feel his thick moans through his back. He presses Kurt further into the wall and feels the cool plaster dust against the knuckles of the hand that has been stifling any noise.

He knows that they don't have much time but that doesn't speed the leisurely pace he sets. Soon he can feel Kurt's hips snap forward before he sinks his teeth into the tender flesh of Puck's palm. Kurt comes in a strangled gasp and his lips fall open enough to peek out from under Puck's hand. He pulls soft skin into his mouth and sucks hard.

The hand falls away except for the stray thumb that stays tucked against his bottom lip. It isn't until Puck pulls back a bit that he catches a glance of them in the mirror. Puck's eyes are black with unfulfilled lust and Kurt's are blown with sated pleasure. He forces himself back hard into Puck's crotch once before floating out of the bathroom door. Leaving him hard and frowning.

That's what he gets for thinking the washroom at Denny's was an appropriate place for that kind of thing.

V- Bold

Who are you?

Kurt has always lived his life boldly. He's draped himself in loudly bright clothing by extravagantly expensive designers. He asked his flannel-wearing father for sensible heels and tap shoes and a Maria bonnet. He worn ten inch heels through the narrow hallways of William McKinley. He sang with his true voice even though he knew he could fake lower if he needed to. He wore the mask that saved his life. Kurt Hummel was the boy that was too loud for his own good.

Puck always lived his life like that day was going to be his last. He lived in the hand-me-down flannel shirts that his father left behind because that's all they could afford. He asked his flannel-wearing father for voice lessons and dance classes and tap shoes. He hides his scars under the flannel his father left him. He hurt people that made him feel like he was a liar. His life was measured in beatdowns and defending his manhood. He looked in the mirror and saw a coward. Noah Puckerman was his father's son.

Standing in the bright sunshine of 8 am felt like flying. Kurt's fingers laced though his. His hair was unusually flat and his eyes were shining. His pale forearms were peeking out from under the rolled-up sleeves of the flannel shirt that Puck had worn the day before. His lips were warmer than the sun that beat down on his neck

Friday night they spent finding themselves in the dark reds and pale pinks. Hours spent deciding who they were to each other. Monday morning they spent in the sky blues and locker green. Hours spent telling everyone who they decided that was.

They were their father's sons and the boys who were way too loud for their own good

 

VI- Edge

Claimed

 

The first time Puck slides his sharp canines in to his throat all he knew was blinding pain. The lightheaded blackness takes him quickly and the only thing he thinks is that he doesn't remember Puck's skin being so cold. When he wakes up three hours later he's in his car and the dull throb at the base of his neck is the only proof that it wasn't a dream.

The second time he doesn't see it coming. He's grabbed form behind and pulled into the dark corner of the alley. This time his sense spark. The smell of the piss and old garbage fills his nostrils. Puck's wearing wool and it leaves light scratches on his sensitive skin. The thin tips of teeth in this neck aren't as deep as they could be. He's not really sure how he knows this but he thinks that's Puck being gentle. This time he feels Puck actually leave his body and suddenly he feels like something's missing. That night he jerks off with his hand covering the mark and visions of Puck dancing through his head.

The third time is after he invites Puck inside. Puck backs him up against a wall and runs a shiny tongue over one of his own sharp teeth. Kurt hears the grunt and sees the blood that spills out of the wound Puck just created. This time the slide is slow, like Puck is waiting for Kurt to push him away. Kurt just curls his fingers around Puck's bicep and groan. This the first time Kurt can feel Puck drawing the blood out of him. The inside of Puck's lips grazes his skin will every pull and pleasure rockets down Kurt's spine. He can feel their blood mixing for a brief second before Puck bites harder. Going deeper that he ever has before. He falls over the edge of the pleasure he's been teetering on. As he spirals towards the blackness, he knows that Puck just claimed him. When he wakes up on curled on Puck's still chest and with Puck's possessive arm wrapped around his shoulder, he thinks he kinda likes that idea.

 

VII- Flood

Mixtapes and Flowers

It starts slow. Like the thin trickle of water that always signals that the levies are about to break. First Puck actually remember that he likes to drink his soda flat and asks the waitress for extra ice during a glee club outing. Then Kurt finds a single sweat pea taped to his locker and remembers that he once said they were his favorite flower. Once way before they were ever more than friends but less than what Kurt wanted. Then Kurt walks into the next rehearsal twirling the flower between his fingers and sees a matching one threaded between the strings of Puck guitar.

Later when they kiss in the darkened janitors closet, Kurt can smell the flower's fragrance on their skin and he can almost feel the way their petals whisper I love you. He finds love in the mixtapes and the flowers. In the looks and the things that only Puck knows. For all those things he's willing to kiss in the darkness. Because this time, when they leave to step into the hallway, Puck holds his hand in the sunlight.

**

I- Lead

An Ass Out of You And Me

They all assume thing that aren't true. Kurt isn't the one that revels in romantic gestures. Puck isn't the one that plans elaborate dates that leave them kissing under the stars. Kurt isn't the one that needs the comforting hand placed on the small of his back. Puck isn't the one that guards against the monsters of thunderstorms and bad dreams. Kurt isn't the one that curls in a warm chest and finds solace in the complete surrender. Puck is never the big spoon.

So yeah, Puck lets everyone believe that he's the one that holds the door open and that Kurt's the one that has to hide his blush when he hears he's beautiful. Kurt lets everyone think that he's the girl the relationship. Despite the fact that girl has never even entered into their relationship.

Sometime they assume some things that are half right. They are two boys in love. They slip into each other with an ease that has never made sense. One of them blushes under his lover's heated gaze. One of them loves the feeling of a slender hand playing along the small of his back. One of them holds the other when the fears become too much. They slow dance in the darkened basement as the music chases everything else away. They are two boys in love. The only thing everyone else has backwards is that when they dance, Puck lets Kurt lead.

II- Hold

One Kiss and Fifty Years

 

The pause is heavy between them. Hangs low and heats the air. The hand on his chest burns his skin and he tries to remember how to breathe. He's never had one before but he doesn't think that first kisses are supposed to leave you shaking like this. He doesn't think that the first boy you kiss is the one that you are supposed to kiss for the rest of your life. The tingle on his lips and the surprised glint in Puck's eyes tell him that he isn't alone. This wasn't the kind of kiss that you can chalk up to youthful curiosity. It's the kind you tell your children about. The kind that your best friend teases you about describing in the best man toast. The kind that fifty years of marriage are built on. The reality of it drapes itself over their skin like a cloak. Covering them with something neither of them even knew they wanted. He wants to say every word that bubbles up but his lips hold the words in his mouth. When Puck leans forward for a second time, Kurt thinks that Puck wants the words just as much as he wanted to say them.

 

III- Burn

Sparks

Puck had always been fascinated with fire. The red amber sparks that would land on his skin the few times his family had actually gone camping. Back when they were a family. The crackle that would ease him to sleep like a lullaby despite his dad's drunken ramblings, his mom's exasperated sighs and the rocks that poked him through his sleeping bag. The smoke that would cling desperately to his skin and his clothes. The musk that he would wear past the point of comfort and would mourn its slick slide down the drain after his ma would make him take a shower. After his dad leaves, he doesn't ever get to see campfires. He runs his index finger over the open flame of his lighter every now and then, just to remember what it felt like, to remember what that kind of warmth feels like.

It isn't until his senior year that Finn finally organizes the camping trip that he always said he would. Everyone from glee club is huddled around the fire and it's Puck's chance to show off a bit. Campfire sing-a-longs eat at the night and soon he's left alone by the slowly dying fire.

He hears everything. The soft whimpers of pleasure coming from almost every tent. The night owls that are playing in the tops of the trees. The light, careful footsteps that approach from behind. The warm hand that rests between his shoulder blades before it slides down to curl around his waist. Kurt's firm chest pressed against his back is what he's been craving all night. Kurt kisses under his jaw before sliding to sit beside him. Watching the fire with Kurt is sharing something special and Puck finally understands what intimacy feels like. Puck falls asleep with Kurt crammed next to him in the sleeping bag. Kurt's soft snores mix with the snap, crackle, pop of the fire and his warm breath burns hotter than any of the flying sparks.

The next morning he wakes up with the smell of Kurt and smoke on his skin. His back is riddled with the small indentations of pebbles that spent the night burrowing into his skin. Kurt's making turkey bacon and eggs by a fresh fire. His face lights up when Puck slides his arms around his waist and rest his chin on his shoulder. Kurt wrinkles his nose at the smell on both of them but kisses him anyway.

Behind them, Puck can hear the surprised gasps and cheers of their friends but it's hard for him to pay attention to any of that. All he knows is the heat of Kurt's mouth, his intoxicating smell and the press of Kurt's sharp angles. When he's with Kurt, he doesn't miss fire anymore.

 

IV- Shadow

Secret Identity

Noah Puckerman had known of Kurt Hummel since he was six years old. With his bow ties and khaki pants, sitting outside of the sandbox because no one wanted to play with him. Icy smiles that formed suddenly after the beginning of seventh grade and the defiant slant of his shoulders that had started after tenth. Kurt Hummel was someone he was well aware of. The kind of person that always seemed to be in his peripheral vision and would make his skin prickle for his touch when they were in the same room. But he didn't really get to know Kurt until halfway through junior year.

It started with Karofsky slamming Kurt into the lockers and sending his books flying. Kurt was obviously trying to keep it hidden. Trying to keep it a secret but his frantic scrambling hands didn't do much to disguise it. Between the 900 page fall fashion issue of Vogue and his calculus book was a cover that Puck was very familiar with. Kurt Hummel had a well-worn copy of The Shadow 1941: Hitler's Astrologer. After that, Puck started to pay more attention.

He saw the way that Kurt often secretly drew during classes. Before, Puck had always thought that he was creating his own Spring collection but some stealth ninjaing told him different. Kurt would spend almost the entire class drawing Kent Allard bending Margot Lane back in a 1950's movies style kiss or The Shadow facing down The Silent Seven or Shiwan Khan. He couldn't miss the fact that Kurt drew The Shadow to look like Puck or the way Margot Lane's sharp features almost mirrored Kurt's. That night he dreams of them solving crimes together and kissing under streetlamps.

Kurt is looking for a Film Noir Hero. A second crashing Karofsky push into the lockers gives him one in Noah Puckerman.

V- Avoid

Looks

The first time Kurt sees Puck look at him like that he glances behind him to see if Santana is shaking her ass behind him. All he sees is the empty hallway and the way Puck avoids his gaze when he turns around.

The second time is right after the other jocks catch him outside after class. His hair is disheveled and his shirt is rumpled, riding up his stomach as they all lift him up. Puck comes out of nowhere and chases them away. Puck's wide thumb grazes the exposed skin before Kurt can pull the cotton down. Puck doesn't look at him for two days.

The third time his eyes are rimmed red from crying and the tissues have turned the tip of his nose a painful pink color. Finn was bringing him soup and fussing like a mother hen while Puck's eyes watched him from the bottom of the stairs. The awkward hunch of his shoulders tell Kurt that he knows that today marked the tenth year that he'd spent without his mother's arms around him. The way Puck's fingers grasped at his own forearms made Kurt wonder if he'd spent the last ten years feeling the same way.

The fourth time is the kind of situation that is usually reserved for completely unoriginal rom-coms. The accidental walk in while the person you have a crush on is changing. Keeping it tasteful and walking in right away to see them shirtless. Kurt feels kind of like a girl with his t-shirt held up against his sternum but it seemed to be the only way to keep his modesty. The look burned brighter than it ever had before. This time Puck looked away first. The next day they acted like nothing happened but Puck did strip his shirt off in math class with no other explanation than he was paying it forward. Kurt did his best to look without looking like he was looking. But he knew he didn't have to worry about missing anything because he could hear Mercedes taking pictures next to him.

It takes a fifth time before Kurt is brave enough to return the look. Heat flows through him and they lock eyes until Santana clears her throat loudly and tells them to get a room. Kurt blushes wildly and turns his head away. He doesn't really hear Puck say that they're going to do just that or the catcalls that follow them out the door. All he knows is the rough feeling out Puck hand against his own.

By the fiftieth time they have learned the planes of each others bodies and trade love through their skin. The look Kurt sees after the first time Puck says I love you, is the look they will trade for fifty years.

They live in the moments where a look can mean more than words and the years they never have to worry about itching their own forearms when they crave hugs.

 

VI- Yearn

Poor Boys In Love

Puck was never the guy that the would delay his own pleasure. His indulgence never knew any bounds. A poor boy learns early that you have to take what you want because no one is ever going to hand it to you. He would take fistfuls of other people's lunches and hide it in his pockets. He would drown himself in booze and drugs because sometimes that was the only thing that didn't hurt. He lost himself in lust for people he never really wanted and only craved them because they belonged to other men. His skin would reek of them. Perfume and cigarette smoke. Foundation and sticky lip gloss. He would fall asleep with dreams of the life he wanted and by the time the sun rose he'd spent the last four hours convincing himself that those weren't the kind of dreams boys like him were supposed to have.

Puck was learning the pleasure of delayed gratification. He lost himself in the soft slide of Kurt's skin against his wrist when they passed each other in the hall. The soft snores that covered his chest as Kurt slept. The unbelievable feeling of wanting, of yearning for all the right reasons. The way Kurt's eyelashes would flutter against his neck when they would hug goodbye. Kurt's scent would cling to everything Puck owned. A delicate mix of musk, soap and lotion.

Puck realized that waiting wasn't just about making sure Kurt was ready. The waiting was for the moments he could appreciate the little things that he loved about Kurt. It was about giving him enough time to collect the memories that would make him okay with drowning in them.

Waiting was something Puck was still getting used to. Every day it got a little bit easier because Puck let himself take pleasure in brief touches and fluttering eyelashes. Every day it got a little bit harder because Kurt was getting closer.

Every day Puck woke up with Kurt's smell on his clothes and soft cheek kisses. For now he was okay with sitting back in the feeling. Because every day the kiss got closer to the corner of his mouth and Kurt wore Puck scent too.

 

VII- Murmur

Second Chances

The grungy club reminded Kurt of the life he left behind in New York. Everyone there reeked of patchouli and dirty hemp. He was sandwiched between a short girl with pink hair and a six foot five guy that had a face full of metal and dreads half way down his back. This was the scene he's spent more than five years in. Being an A and R guy in New York meant practically living in these kinds of clubs. Finding artists that no other label would touch and turning them into the kind of stars the music industry needed to keep some of it's integrity.

When his company opened a LA office it was a given that he would be the one to relocate. He missed these kinds of places that were always filled with these kinds of people but he traded that life for a music scene that was being completely overlooked and summer all year long. He'd been in LA six months when he's stumbled across the demo of Jackie Daniels. They were a small queercore band that played all their own instruments, wrote their own songs and rocked harder that Semi Precious Weapons and the Scissor Sisters combined. In short, they were exactly what Kurt was looking for. In his line of work it was always hard to still be a fan of music but there was something in the lead singer's voice that made him stop thinking about how to market them and just listen.

None of the demos had any contact information or pictures of the band. They had all even adopted single names. Skylar, Jamie and Billie. All gender neutral names that gave him no clues about how to find them. But then he'd heard The Murmurs were getting together for a reunion show and that Jackie Daniels was going to be the opener.

The lights went down and the deep bass chords started. The curtain flew open and what Kurt saw on the other side made him freeze. Noah Puckerman in six inch boots, spandex leggings and no shirt. His eyes painted with bright pink eyeliner. Kurt watched the show with a mouth agape look of shock the entire time. Until Noah seemed to recognize him in the crowd and jumped down to the railing. Giving him a look that made Kurt's stomach flip and pulling him into a deep kiss.

As he listened to Puck sing about being in love with a boy from high school, he could help by think that moving to LA may have been the best thing that ever happened to him. Well that and, while licking his lips, wondering if Puck was actually wearing peach flavored lip gloss.

**

Dance- Two Step

They have spent years learning this dance. The elegant two-step of love. The fox-trot of building a family. The flamenco of making love spark off their colliding rib cages. The stars blink brightly in night sky. From his spot in the backyard, Kurt can hear Emily laughing wildly in the kitchen. Her drunken, bubbly giggle tells him it's because she's had a bit too much champagne.

For the first time in his life the suit he's wearing feels wrong against his skin. Tears spring to his eyes and he gulps the last bit of his vodka martini. Noah seems to sense his angst from inside the house. He walks out onto the patio and sees Kurt sulking. His eyes shine with unshed tears.

He offers his hand to him, just like he did twenty-five years ago. Kurt takes it just as easily as he did that first day. Kurt curls into his embrace and they sway softly side to side. Kurt forehead is pressed firmly into Noah's shoulder and his breath bounces off the skin of his collarbone. Kurt sniffled loudly before raising his head to look at Noah.

“Can you believe it?” Kurt whispered.

“I know, right? Little Emily actually got married.” Puck chuckled.

“You do know, this officially make us old.”

“Pesshh, we could never be old, babe. We are just distinguished gentlemen. We don't even have any gray, yet.”

“Yeah, well according to our daughter we have about ten months to start getting ready for the idea of being grandparents. She is determined to get pregnant on her honeymoon.”

Puck tried to break away from Kurt, intent of kicking his new son-in-law's ass. “Where's Jake? I'll kill the little prick.”

Kurt giggled as he pulled Puck back into his arms. “Babe, that's what married people do.”

Another screeching giggle broke out from the house and they shared a soft look before Puck pressed their foreheads together. Swaying under the starlight, their lips would dip down for a kiss every few minutes.

Their steps didn't always match and their only music was the excited laugh of their baby girl. They have spent years learning this dance.

 

Alone- Of Tea Parties and Bad Words

 

Kurt Hummel was use to being alone. He would plan elegant tea parties for friends he never had. He spent hours planning all the wonderful things that would happen when he got friends. He spent hours listening to his mom's old Judy Garland records and making homemade invitations to his birthday party. He hand delivered every single one of them personally. Before his mommy died she taught him all about manners and being a good host.

The day of the party, his picked out his favorite bow tie and waited by the door. The doorbell rang and Burt chuckled at the way the tap shoes clicked on the hardwood floor. No one was there when Kurt finally open the door. One of his lace invitations was sitting on the front porch. A word he hadn't heard before was written over the part that said Kurt Hummel Cordially Invites You To His Eighth Birthday Party. He doesn't know what a fag is but the way his daddy's hand clenches around the expensive paper makes him know he never wants to be one.

His dad gets really quiet and the tension forces Kurt down to his new room in the basement. He stays sitting on the edge of his bed. The tips of his shoes don't quite reach the floor and the scrapping sound they make with every swing of his legs, drown out the soft sniffles that force themselves out of his throat. His tears make it hard to see the fancily dressed table across the room. He walks to run his fingers over the linen tablecloth. His hands trace the soft edge of his mom's good china.

He doesn't hear the door open until he gives into temptation and sits down with a shortbread cookie in his mouth. He thinks it's just his dad coming down to tell him that things will get better soon and that being alone can build character. He doesn't expect Noah Puckerman to sit down next to him.

Noah's left hand is holding a small poorly wrapped present and his right fiddles with a dessert fork. His eyes dart nervously around the room but can't help being drawn back to Kurt's trembling chin. He can hear him mumbling to himself but Noah can't quite make out the words.

“What are ya talkin' about?”

Kurt's eyebrows pull together and his breath hitches. “I just don't like being alone.”

They stay quiet for a long time. Kurt can't tear his eyes away from the sad china setting in front of him and Noah can't take his eyes off of Kurt. When Noah finally talks again, Kurt winces in shock.

“You're not, you know?”

“I'm not, what?”

“Alone.”

Kurt can barely hear his whisper. Noah isn't sure why he does it but he feels like it's the right thing to do. His palm is sweaty against Kurt's soft hand but the way Kurt links their fingers together, Noah knows he got it right.

 

Miss- The Way To A Man's Heart

 

Puck once heard that a man can fall in love with someone the minute he sees that person interact with his family. Noah Puckerman was a hardcore badass. He was also the world's biggest Mama's boy. The fact Kurt could breeze into their little home and act like he's always belonged there makes his heart swell in his chest.

His ma blushes when Kurt calls her beautiful and compliments her cooking. Puck rolls the burnt pasta around his mouth as he tries to fight a smile. The bright grin that breaks out on her face makes Puck love Kurt even more.

Mia spends the entire meal gazing starry-eyed at Kurt. Her eyelashes flutter and she makes throwaway comments about how pretty Kurt's hair is. Kurt takes two servings of the overcooked pasta and spends an hour and a half helping Mia with her math homework.

His ma leaves for work just after Puck and Kurt finish the dishes. She kisses them both on the cheek and whispers that she expects to see Kurt around there a lot more from now on. Kurt ducks his head as the blush takes over his cheeks but he promises that he's here to stay.

The slow way Kurt slides on his peacoat makes Puck realize how reluctant he is to leave. Kurt's wrapping his long scarf around his neck when Mia pulls the end of it. He leans down and she whispers in his ear. His face softens for a minute before he whispers his response. Her face looks disappointed for a second but then her face lights up in a smile. She nods to him before pressing a loud kiss to Kurt's cheek.

Mia runs from the room giggling and for the first time all night he's got Kurt alone. Puck presses his forehead to Kurt's and sighs as Kurt's arm snake around his waist.

“What did she say?”

Kurt closes his eyes and inhales Puck's scent. “She asked me if I could be her husband.”

Puck pokes him in the ribs. “Oh, yeah? Am I going to have to fight my own sister?”

“No. I told her that I was already taken. But we compromised. She's going to be my favorite girl and you'll be my favorite boy.”

Puck kissed him softly before leading him to the door. “That seems fair.”

Puck doesn't leave his spot by the door until he sees Kurt's Navigator turn the corner out of sight. He feels the small hand lock onto his and he barely hears her quiet whisper.

“I miss Kurt.”

“I know, baby girl. I miss him too.”

Puck picks her up and hugs her hard to his chest. He settles her on his hip before heading back into the kitchen to make them both ice cream sundaes. Mia falls asleep with chocolate on her face and Puck falls asleep with a smile on his.

Noah Puckerman was a hardcore badass. He was the world's biggest Mama's boy. And he was the boy that loves Kurt Hummel.

Yeah, he can live with that.

 

Wait- Big Beds and Long Waits

His foot bounces up and down fast enough to make the table shake. The passersby give him a sideways look and grimace before walking away. His stubble burns his hand as he runs his hands over his face for the eighth time that day. The face of his watch mocks him it shows him only three minutes have passed since the last time he looked.

His eyes threaten to droop shut and he fights to stay awake. Five days alone in that big bed have left him sleepless. The huge empty space echoing like the drops of water that fell from the kitchen faucet and kept him awake. His stomach growls as he fights to remember the last time he ate.

He's been waiting three hours. His finger hovering over the send button on his phone. Threatening to break the rules they set before Kurt left. That they wouldn't let themselves be that kind of couple. That Kurt could go to a huge important job interview that could change both of their lives and Puck had to wait until he got home to find out.

He doesn't even notice that the plane has landed. The baggage carousel starts to turn and it snaps him out of his funk. Kurt is dressed in his best suit. Charcoal gray and cut to fit. Stylish black boots echo loudly in the terminal and his face glows in the sun coming through the glass windows.

Kurt tosses his carry-on to the side and leaps into Puck's arms. He kisses him fiercely before pulling back to smile at Puck. With his leg locked around Puck's waist, he is completely silent.

“So.... San Francisco?” Puck asks, cautiously.

Kurt nods quickly. “San Francisco.”

Puck kisses Kurt again. Soon Kurt will bitch at Puck for not shaving or eating or getting enough sleep. They make love on the living room floor and spend hours watching bad movies. They'll wait until they think the other one is sleeping to whisper about how lonely they were.

There's time for all of that later but for now.... San Francisco.

 

Rush- Salt, Love and Time

He'll never forget what it feels like. The slick slide of tongue. The soft press of lips. The sharp shock of teeth. The rush of knowing, he's finally letting you do this. Puck doesn't take any of it for granted. They're three years in. Puck has spent those years cataloging all the ways Kurt has moaned, hissed, groaned, panted, and whimpered. Fuckin whimpered. Puck did that. He managed to get close enough to something inside Kurt that let him make that beautiful noise.

He watched as tears leaked from the covers of Kurt's eyes. The shuddered gasp of pleasure. The bowed back of orgasm. Tasted the salty slide of Kurt's pleasure on his tongue. After Kurt comes for the second time in a night, he always shakes. His body trembles in the most delicious way and Puck has to remember not to push passed the third. After the third Kurt gets too sensitive and Puck has to make do with licking the evidence off of Kurt skin.

The truth of it is, he knows every inch of Kurt. Every ticklish area. Every part that he's self-conscious about. Every spot that will bring them both to their knees if Puck's touches it. He knows he's lucky he gets to know Kurt like this. Gets to see all that pale flesh. Get to leave his mark on that skin. He knows and he's grateful every single day. Grateful for a fateful game of spin the bottle. Grateful for park bench kisses and holding hands on the slide.

The slick slide of tongue. The soft press of lips. The sharp shock of teeth.

He'll never forget what it feels like.

 

Scent- Scents for Sleeping

The first time they sleep together Puck wakes up smelling like the sea. He's not sure how it happens but Kurt makes him smell like the Pacific Ocean.

The second time they sleep together Puck wakes up smelling like fresh baked chocolate chip cookies. He smells like heat and home and Christmas.

The third time they sleep together Puck wakes up smelling like black licorice and honey. Kurt makes him smell like Spanish class and glee club.

The fourth time they sleep together Puck wakes up smelling like jasmine. Kurt makes him smell like summer time and Joni Mitchell on the radio and swimming pools.

The fifth time they sleep together is the first time they spend the night exploring each other. Puck waked up smelling like Kurt. Kurt makes him smell like promise and sex and love.

Every time they sleep together, Kurt wakes up smelling like Puck. Puck makes him smell like boy and Coco Puffs and the heavy wetness of summer.

Every morning Kurt never even misses the smells he put on the night before. Every morning he wakes up smelling exactly like he was meant to smell.

 

Remember- Cute Boys and Tea Parties

Noah used to go on adventures. He would stuff his backpack full of essentials and explore the wilderness in other people's backyards. His little legs wouldn't take him that far but he could always make it to the Hummel house. He'd watch the cute boy from behind the fence. Sometime he would be playing catch with his dad. Sometimes he was throwing tea parties. That day was a tea party day.

For the first time, Noah can't stay behind the fence. He scrambles over the wood and the cute boy gasps when he lands on the other side. Noah doesn't say anything to him. He just sits down and grabs a sugar cookie. The cute boy pours him sweet-tasting tea and smiles at him. Noah offers him some of his goldfish crackers and laughs at the confused face that follows. The cute boy frowns when he sees what goldfish crackers are but he eats one away. His frown shift to surprise and Noah lets him eat the rest.

The cute boy introduces him to all the other people at the party. Noah's favorite is Mr. Purple People Eater. Noah doesn't get to stay long. The cute boy's dad leans out the back door.

“Kurt, dinner's ready. Your friend has to go home.”

The cute boy is named Kurt. Kurt is Noah's friend. Kurt makes the best sugar cookies he's ever had.

Noah used to go on adventures. Now he goes to tea parties.

 

Whisper- Confidence And Teenage Soap Operas

His absence whispers across Puck's skin. The dread of loneliness has never been so thick. He watched Kurt walk away. He kept his mouth shut as people let him go. As Mr. Schue didn't stop Karofsky. As people wouldn't show him just how much he was loved. As his father almost died. Puck was the one that loved Kurt best. He was the one that failed him the worst.

Kurt didn't know that Puck would lie away at night and dream of what it might be like to kiss him. Kurt had no idea that Puck imagined a whole life for them. Full of Broadway plays and shower sex and kissing for no reason. Seeing Kurt at Sectionals was enough to make him drive three hours at the ass crack of dawn to bring him home.

The high walls that surrounded the school would have made lesser men cower in fear. Noah Puckerman might be in love with a dude but he was the baddest badass that had ever loved a dude. And he watched a documentary about the Stonewall Riots so he knew how badass dude-loving dudes could be.

Kurt is absentmindedly picking at an everything bagel and cringing at the smell it leaves on his fingers. Puck's eyes dart around. If he's doing this, he's doing it big. He sees the coffee cart and jumps on top of it before he can stop himself.

“Kurt Elizabeth Hummel. I'm in big gay love with you” Puck's voice bounces off of the high ceilings and every eye turns on him.

“Noah Puckerman, what the hell are you doing?” Kurt's voice is so high pitched he's surprised he even heard it. His cheeks flame red.

“I'm emulating one of my Jewish brothers and declaring my love in a badass way.”

Kurt stomps over to him and grabs his hand. The shock of Kurt's skin sliding against his is enough to distract him and Kurt manages to make it out of the mess hall before he pushes Puck against the wall.

“You are not Seth Cohen and I am not Summer Roberts. If you came here to humiliate me, mission accomplished, okay?”

“I didn't come here to humiliate you. I came here to bring you home.” Puck hates how desperate he just sounded

“This is home, for now. You have to leave.”

“Well, I'm not leaving without you. I hope this place has a decent football team. Do you think they'll let us be roommates?” Puck crosses his arms over his chest and leans against the wall. “Don't you get it, Kurt? I'll protect you. I always protect the people I love.”

“You don't get to come in here and say you love me. Who the fuck do you think you are? You can't love me. I have a dick, remember. That's kind of a deal breaker for painfully straight boys.” Kurt's finger pokes him the chest and his eyes are almost crossed in anger. Puck grabs his finger and pulls Kurt against him.

Kurt's eyes widen in shock as Puck leans down towards him. “Wha...what are you doing?”

Puck's lips hover above Kurt and his breath skates over his bottom lip with every word. “I'm waiting for you to take what I'm offering.” His mouth quirks as he quotes The OC a hairs breath away from Kurt's flushed cheek. “Confidence, Hummel. Confidence.”

Kurt's lip twitches for a moment before he closes the distance and takes everything Puck is offering and then grabs a hold of a couple things Puck hadn't even thought to offer. Puck whimpers in a very badass way.

In the end, Puck doesn't wind up transferring to Dalton. Kurt getting kicked out for tonguing a dude in the grand foyer pretty much put the kibosh on that plan.

 

Fear- The Whole Night

Noah Puckerman lived his life in fear. Cowering in the corner as his father's fists flew in the other room. Spending the night in his baby sister's room, staring at the ceiling. The gripping fear that she might stop breathing forcing him to lay beside her crib, counting the rise and fall of her chest.

Every time his ma left for work, he was sure she wasn't coming back. Days when he didn't have school he would sit by the window and watch the driveway until she came back. By junior high he was scared someone might find out that he liked boys. By high school he was scared of angry husbands and fathers slamming through bedroom doors.

Of all the ways he'd experienced fear, no one scared him more than Kurt Hummel. Kurt just wanted to be his friend. Letting him stay in his room if Finn was too busy to hang out. Spending hours learning how much the had in common. Days of Puck trying to tell Kurt that he liked boy the same way Kurt liked boys. Hours of stumbled words and tripping over his own lips. All ended by Kurt softly whispered, I know.

Kurt kisses Puck first. The shy, tentative press is braver than anything Puck's been able to do. When they fall asleep beside each other for the first time, Puck isn't scared to close his eyes. He knows that Kurt is going to be there when he wakes up.

Kurt makes Puck want to count someone's breaths because you're so close you can't help it. That night, before the smooth rhythm lulls his to sleep, he counts every single one.

 

Race- Sprints and Long Distances

His legs feel like they're on fire. The wind whips at his face as the cheering tries to penetrate the rushing pound of his heart in his ears. The excitement and blood rush through his veins. He can feel every way his body has gotten stronger after he started training. The orange, dusty gravel whips up around his ankles and his breath is greedy for the cool spring air.

This is the reason he woke up at four am every morning. This was the reason he would sacrifice a few extra hours wrapped in Puck's arms. This was the reason he suffered the sling and arrows of being on the track team. A decision that put him even further down the totem pole than glee.

He's the first one off the mark as soon as the shot rings out. He's been running drills in his backyard every night to ensure just that. He leaves his competitors in the dust. When he's running he doesn't think about the words thrown at him daily. He doesn't think about the solos he didn't get or the fact that the boy he loves is still in the closet. He doesn't even care that he's sweating in public or wearing short shorts.

This meet is more important than any other. If he stays ahead, they'll take State for the first time in twenty years. He moves with a powerful grace that catches everyone off guard. The stands are full for the first time since Kurt started running and the crowd propels his forward.

The thin ribbon hitting his chest stops him like a brick wall. His legs seize the minute he crosses the finish line and he throws his arms up in tired victory.

The race is over and his vision swims with unshed tears. He doesn't see Puck rushing towards him. He doesn't see the shocked faces of the onlookers. All he sees is Puck crashing into him and bending him back into a heated kiss.

When Puck kisses him he doesn't think about all the things he was told he'd never have. He doesn't think about bullies or busted lips. All he knows is heat, love and the fact the boy he loves isn't in the closet anymore.

Learn- Old Dreams and New Skills

He promised himself he was going to learn how to do this. It wasn't entirely his fault he hadn't pick up this skill before. He'd never thought he'd need it. He wasn't a Puck Head and his ma sure as shit wasn't taking them to the rink when they were kids.

The darkness hangs over him. He had to pick the lock to get in here but he couldn't risk anyone seeing him try this. The cold nips at his nose and turns his cheeks red. His leg slip out from under him. The pain crashes up his tailbone and settles at the base of his spine. For the sixth time he asks himself why the fuck he's doing this in the first place but then he remembers.

The week before he'd overheard Mercedes and Kurt describing their perfect Valentine's day dates. Puck chuckled to himself as she described his idea of a perfect date. Laser tag, pizza and making out. If he wasn't head over heels in love with Kurt, he would think that it was time to give Mercedes her dream date. Instead, he just filed it away until Finn grabbed a clue and asked him how to win the coolest chick at McKinley. But his boyfriend's shy, soft whisper made him forget about all that. He talked about how he always dreamed about going ice skating, having a picnic on the ice and kissing the boy he loved while they were wearing their mittens. Mercedes said that this just might be the year his dream comes true. The shake of Kurt's head makes Puck break into the ice rink that night.

After he falls for the twenty-fifth time, he is finally able to put three long strides together before he makes it twenty-six. By the time Valentine's Day rolls around his ass is bruised and maybe a bit of his pride is too. The smile that lights up Kurt's face when he sees the blanket laying on the ice and the awkward slide of Puck on skates makes it worth a bit of battered pride.

When Kurt kisses him with their mittens on, Puck realizes that this was kinda his dream too.

 

Hands- He Knows

Puck thinks he's probably loved Kurt for a long time. Why else would he spend Saturday afternoon following Kurt around the mall? Why else would he put on his best Temple outfit and meet Kurt's dad? Why else would he promise Kurt the minute before they kissed that he wouldn't kiss anyone else? He has loved Kurt forever. It just that his brain didn't catch up right away. He doesn't know for sure until he overhears Brittney talking about Kurt with Santana.

“Fuck, I fucked my hand up again.”

“San, you should find Kurt. His hands are baby soft. He has goat's milk or something. It smells but it works, see?” Brittney's soft voice trails off a bit as she runs her hand down Santana's face. Puck backs away because he knows what's about to happen. The squeak of surprise makes him smile as he turns around the corner.

The more he thinks about it, the more he realizes that Britt is wrong. Kurt's hands are soft, sure. The kid puts enough lotion on them to keep Puck in jerk-mode of days. But the soft only magnifies the rough. Like the thin scar on the outside of his right thumb. Kurt got that peeling radishes in the kitchen skin with his Grandma Hummel. Or the freckle he has just under his forefinger on the palm of his left hand. Or the slight callouses that dance along his finger tips, a testament to how much time he actually spent under the hood of a car. Britt really had no idea what she's talking about.

The thought hits Puck right in the gut. Of course Britt doesn't know what she's talking about. Kurt never let her get close enough to see the tiny imperfections that mark his skin. She's never seen the strawberry birthmark hiding under his hair. She's never heard the weird snoring thing he does if he's having a bad dream. She has no idea that the only reason he uses that goat's milk lotion is because it smells like how his mom used to smell.

But Puck knows. He knows enough to never mention grease he sees under Kurt's fingernails. He knows enough to make sure a salad never has radishes on it. He's even started to crave the smell of that lotion.

Kurt meets him in the hallway. His fingers laces with Puck's and he knows. His palm rest against the left hand freckle and his thumb skims over the right hand scar. Garage-callouses rest on the top of his hand and he knows that night he'll fall asleep smelling like Kurt's lotion.

Puck's been in love with Kurt forever. His brain just needed some time to catch up.

 

Want- Want, Need, Have

Want is something Noah Puckerman is acutely familiar with. He wants a lot of things. He gets most of them too. He wants hot girls and hot guys. He want fast cars and loud music. He wants non-kosher meat and one night stands in back alleys. His problem was never with want. His problem was need.

He needs things too much. He needs them so much he never lets himself ask for them. He longs for a hug that makes him feel weak. He prays for the day he can fall asleep in someone's arms. He needs the day when he doesn't have to fight anymore. When life can be about this moment. About kissing someone goodbye because they're heading to work instead of the ones he's used to. The ones where kissing someone goodbye meant he was never going to see them again. He needs the day that struggle doesn't hit against his skin. Where he can walk around feeling like he's worth something.

But sometimes what he wants and what he needs are the same thing. When Kurt kisses him goodbye, he always knows he'll see him again. When Kurt begs for the chance to make out behind the school, Puck feels ten feet tall. When Kurt has a nightmare, he'll wrap his arms so tight around Puck's middle that he has to fight for breath. He can live in the moment and think about the future. He doesn't have to fight when he's with Kurt.

Kurt is want and need and have all wrapped into one.

 

Pretend- Hallways, Always

Puck pretends he doesn't have Kurt's phone number memorized. He pretends he doesn't know that if Kurt gets angry he tastes different. He pretends he doesn't long to fall asleep beside him. He pretends he's satisfied with the quickies they grab. In the janitors closet or the locker room or in the choir room after everyone leaves. He's good at pretending until the day that he's not so good.

That day Karofsky walks in on them. Puck's arms are locked around Kurt neck and Kurt's hips snap wildly into Puck. The smirk on his face tells Puck he thinks he just gained the upper hand in a fight Puck didn't even know they were a part of. Karofsky stares a little too long and Puck can feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

After he leaves, Kurt starts the slow pull away that meant he thought this was over. Puck was so shocked he didn't even try to stop him. Kurt always said that keeping quiet about them was about keeping Puck safe. Now Puck understood why he was so sure they need protecting.

Walking around the halls alone make him feel like a coward. From the other end of the hall he can see that Karofsky has Kurt pressed against the lockers. Kurt's eyes don't even bother searching for help. Puck accidentally runs into Rachel as he barrels down the hallway. Her shocked gasps becomes the soundtrack to his coming out. He's not thinking about much. All he knows is mine, don't touch and baby, I'm coming.

His body hits Karofsky with a sickening thud and the force of the blow knocks Karofsky out cold. The crumpled heap lays forgotten behind him as he stands to walk back to Kurt. His face is shocked and terrified. Puck's hand frame his face.

“Baby, are you okay? Do I need to make this fucker dead?” Puck's soft voice echoes in the deathly silent hallway. Kurt's head shakes softly in his hands and Puck can see the relief fill Kurt's features.

The kiss is light and barely there. But it's the first one in public and Kurt doesn't pull away.

Puck was good at pretending that he didn't know what Kurt tasted like or smelled like or liked to eat on his pizza. He was really good at it...until the day he wasn't.

**


End file.
